


A Question of Timing

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel’s breath and warmth and skin are where Jack lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the now timed-out zine, A Friend in Need, for holdt.

The first time Jack asks the question, it’s couched in terms of friendship.

“Stay with me,” Jack says, “just until you find your feet. It’s gotta beat temp quarters.”  It’s late and they’re both fuzzy from more beers than is wise. Daniel is sitting in his living room nursing a half empty bottle, thoughts light years away, looking as lost as he did earlier in the corridor at the SGC.

“I can’t. I need to be at the base ... there might be news,” Daniel answers, restless fingers picking at the label on the bottle.

“Daniel ...” God. This shouldn’t hurt so much. The chances of finding Sha’uri are remote. It’s a big, hostile universe. He knows Daniel needs to believe it when Jack says they’ll find her. Jack can see the desperation in Daniel’s eyes.

“General Hammond will have to let me on the team. She’s my wife. I need to be out there.”

And now Jack can hear the desperation in his voice, too.

“Right now you need to sleep,” Jack says, keeping his tone reasonable. “And then you’ll need somewhere you can call home. That somewhere is not a small, windowless room a dozen levels underground. Trust me; readjusting after you’ve been away is a whole lot easier when you’re some place you’re comfortable with.”

Daniel shifts in his chair, eyes darting around the room. He doesn’t want to give in. It’s written all over his tight, anxious face.

“It’s just until you settle into life on Earth again, Daniel. I’m not asking you to marry me.”

That earns him a look that is at once aggrieved and angry.

“I’m already married.”

“I know that. I meant ...”

Daniel sighs and runs a weary hand across his forehead.  “I know what you meant.” His face creases in an aggravated frown. “Sorry,” he mumbles into the rim of the beer bottle.

“S’okay. Bad choice of words.”

They’re misfiring spectacularly here. Jack knows this is no easy friendship, but something in his gut tells him it’s worth fighting for. He is astonished how important it is to him that Daniel is all right, or as all right as he can be. Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised; the man did take a staff blast for him. He owes him. But it’s more than that. Daniel Jackson is under his skin.

“I’ll stay tonight,” Daniel finally concedes, and it’s obvious that it is costing him a lot.

“And you’ll think about staying. For a while.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Daniel looks at the beer bottle as though it’s an alien object. Jack supposes it is. The cultural displacement Daniel’s experiencing must be overwhelming; everything is alien in a world that should be his own.

“I think I’ll go to bed now, if that’s okay.” Daniel stands and places the bottle carefully on the coffee table.

Jack’s heart breaks just a little as Daniel shoves his hands in the pockets of the regulation jumpsuit that is at least two sizes too big for him. They’re designed for soldiers, not long-haired geeks. He’s lost and hurting and Jack can’t stand it.  He has no idea how Daniel will respond when he pulls him in for a hug. Jack isn’t tentative. A hug means something. In this case, it means, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re not alone. We’ll get through it.” Jack’s a little afraid Daniel thinks it means, “We’ll find her. I promise.”

The body in Jack’s arms is tense and the hug is awkward because Daniel refuses to give into the comfort being offered. So Jack just holds him harder, puts a hand to the back of his neck, touching soft hair and warm skin, and squeezes, and that produces a sound that dies as it is born in Daniel’s throat. Abruptly, Daniel pulls away, eyes searching the room, resting on anything but Jack.

“There are clothes and a toothbrush in the spare room,” Jack says, waving his hand in the direction of the bedroom.

“Thanks,” Daniel says, quietly.

Jack watches him walk away, the feel of Daniel’s skin burning his fingertips.

>>>> 

The second time Jack asks the question, it’s grounded by friendship but layered with love.

“Live with me.”

Daniel just gives him the look. It’s his patented, “You’re kidding me” look, amused and irritated, and so, so familiar.

 “I mean it,” Jack says.

“You think you do,” Daniel answers, scooping up more eggs. He always eats eggs in the mornings after they fuck.

“Look at us,” Jack makes an expansive hand gesture that takes in his Arlington kitchen, with Daniel’s wine glass upturned on the drainer and Daniel’s archaeology magazine folded at the spine (Jack hates that) next to Daniel’s jacket draped on the end of the counter. “You practically live here anyway.”

Daniel makes a small harrumphing sound as he chases the last of the eggs around his plate.

“That’s a stretch. And we’d kill each other within weeks,” Daniel says, laying down his fork and walking over to the coffee pot.

“We get along,” Jack counters.

“We get along because I’m only here on those rare occasions when we’re free at the same time.” He reaches up into a kitchen cabinet for a clean mug. “Twice in five months. Six whole days. Of course we get along under those circumstances. Who wouldn’t? We’re desperate to be together. Time’s too precious to waste it getting on each other’s nerves.” He peers into the mug, blows out some dust.  Jack doesn’t get many visitors here. “Living together’s a whole different ballgame.”

Daniel pours the coffee and takes a big glug. He turns away from Jack, places the mug carefully on the counter. He leans against the granite, arms braced, head down. “In those five months I lived for those fucking six days,” he says, so softly Jack can hardly hear him. “Don’t taunt me with things that can’t be and that we can’t have.”

It’s not that they can’t live together ... it’s that they _can’t_ live together. It’s hurting Daniel more than Jack ever suspected.

Crap.

Jack crosses the kitchen and reaches out for him, sliding arms around his waist from behind, pressing in, pressing close. It feels like home. Forget bricks and mortar; Daniel’s breath and warmth and skin are where he lives. He molds himself to the familiar shape of Daniel’s body. Oh god, the ease with which they flow together ... perfect confluence.

“We’ll make it happen,” Jack says, pushing the words into Daniel’s skull, mouthing Daniel’s neck, his hair. He needs this like breathing.

“After,” Daniel says, quietly.

After the Ori are vanquished, after the next threat du jour, after their work is done.

“After,” Jack affirms.

They stand there as the early morning light filters into the room, swaying slightly.

>>>>> 

The third time Jack asks the question, it’s grounded in friendship, layered with love and loaded with hope.

“Marry me,” Jack says, into the quiet that is broken only by some weird-shit freeform jazz that Daniel is listening to and Jack’s trying, and failing, to ignore. They’re reading in their Arlington living room facing each other along the length of the sofa, legs tangled, socked feet idly rubbing denim.

Jack’s been watching him for twelve minutes and Daniel’s oblivious. Daniel’s not really reading either. He’s preoccupied.

Daniel has just been offered a job as liaison between the military and the IOA, a pivotal role that will see him guide both parties through the tricky waters of taking the Stargate program public at some indeterminate date in the future. He hasn’t been through the Gate for over a year. Instead, he’s been with Jack at Homeworld, doing whatever needs to be done for the program. At the home they now share, they’re going to bed together every night and waking up together every morning. It makes Jack more than happy. Jack hopes it makes Daniel happy, too, but lately, Daniel’s been quiet and tired and Jack is finding it hard to get a read on him. He has no idea whether Daniel will take the job.

After the question has hung in the air for an unfeasibly long time, Daniel peers over the top of his glasses and stares at Jack for long moments. He licks his lips, rests his book on his legs and shuffles to get more comfortable.

“Just like that you ask the question. Apropos of nothing?”

  
“I wouldn’t call fourteen years of us nothing.”

 

“It’s not. But ... why now?”

“Why not?”

Daniel pulls a “you could have a point” face and nods.

“Is that nod a yes?”

“No, it’s an acknowledging-that-you-have-a-valid-point nod.”

“Ah.”

Daniel takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s a sure sign he has a headache. He didn’t sleep much last night. Jack was aware of some restless tossing and turning. At one point, he rolled towards Daniel, muttered a sleepy, “C’mere” and drew Daniel into his arms. It seemed to do the trick.

“Are you asking now because you’re not sure that I’m going to take the IOA job?” Daniel puts his glasses back on and squints as his eyes refocus. Definitely a headache.

“ _Are_ you going to take the IOA job?” Jack tenses as he asks. There’s more riding on this answer than he cares to admit.

Daniel lets out a deep sigh. “I have no idea.”

Jack purses his lips. “Vidrine said you aced the panel.”

“Please. I could have tap danced and baked a cake and they’d still have wanted me for the job. I’m the perfect candidate for it. They know it and I know it, and that is not my oversized ego talking. The salary is ridiculous. I can take it on my terms. Hours to suit. They even offered me the wherewithal to write the definitive history of the program and to create a museum and traveling exhibition of the kind of alien artefacts that will spark wonder in the eyes of the spellbound public.”

“The zat will make them laugh.”

“Penis as weapon.”

“’Twas ever thus.”

Daniel laughs then but it still doesn’t release the tension in him that has been bugging Jack for days. Daniel tilts his head and rests it against the sofa cushion.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ looming,” Jack says, carefully. “It’s the perfect job but ...”

Daniel closes his eyes and goes very still. He’s waging an inner war. That much is obvious.

“I’m tired, Jack.”

Jack bites back the obvious retort about getting an early night because what Daniel’s just said has nothing to do with a lack of sleep.

“Yeah. I got that.” The secret of getting Daniel to talk is that you let him talk. You don’t tell him you’re here to listen, that you’re here for him or any of that supportive crap. You just let him do it in his own time and in his own way.

“The program is screwing with my head.”  And now he’s making that frowny, adorable face and that demands kissing, except that now isn’t the time.

“It’s been screwing with us for years, Daniel.”

Daniel waves a dismissive hand. He can be condescending at times, Jack thinks, expecting everyone to get what he’s saying, not realizing that his mind works in strange, mysterious and sometimes unfathomable ways and sometimes mere mortals have trouble keeping up.

“Yes but ... it’s not that.”

_Following still you not ..._

“I can do the IOA job. I’m the best person for it, and it secures my future here with you.”

“Aaaand here comes the looming but.”

“But it’s not what I want.”

Jack curls his hand around one of Daniel’s socked feet and rubs. It’s a delaying tactic. He’s used it for years. When in doubt about what to say, fiddle with something – ancient artefact, lab equipment, body parts.

“You don’t want to be here ... with me ... or ...”

“Or.”

Jack’s heart thumps hard in relief, to the point where he feels light-headed. But then, there’s still the ‘or.’

“I don’t know how to explain this.”

Jack knows better than to tell him to try, so he rubs the foot some more, curls his thumb under the arch, careful to use just the right amount of non-ticklish pressure. They’ve always been able to connect through touch when the words aren’t coming out right.

“My life is so inextricably linked to the program now. It’s like ... can there even be a Daniel Jackson without it? Okay, so I don’t go through the Gate anymore but it’s in here,” he taps his chest with an open palm. “This new job? Ties me to it, even further. I need to know that there’s more to me than the program.”

Jack squeezes the foot in his hand. “Trust me ... there’s a lot more to you than that. There’s a great ass, smooth chest, eyes you can drown in. Should I go on?”

Daniel lets loose a small smile, there and gone, and digs Jack in the ribs with the foot that is not being massaged. Jack mouths “Ow” and turns the foot massage into a caress.

“This is what’s been keeping you awake at night?”

Daniel sighs. “I don’t want to take the job.”

Jack nods. _Now we’re getting somewhere_. “Feel better for saying it out loud?”

Daniel looks surprised. “Actually ... I do.”

“But you still want us, right?”

“”God ... yes. _Yes,_ Jack, you have to know that.” He looks pained that Jack has had to ask the question.

“Then don’t take the job.” It sounds simple, but this is Daniel, and nothing about Daniel has ever been simple.

“There is something else,” Daniel begins, tentatively.

Jack inclines his head and waits.

Daniel bites his bottom lip, then he’s moving, up off the sofa to stand, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched, in the middle of the living room. For a second, he looks as lost as he did back in the Springs in Jack’s house, that first night back from Abydos.  That night Jack first asked the question.

_Stay with me._

Jack realizes in a “Well I‘ll be damned” kind of way that he’s actually been asking the same question all these years. Stay with me; live with me; marry me.

Be with me.

It’s all Jack’s ever really wanted – Daniel on his team, in his life, in his home.

“I have the chance to help run a dig.” The words come out in a rush.

Jack swings around on the sofa until his feet hit the floor. He rests his elbows on his knees and gestures for Daniel to continue.

“I’ve been emailing with Sarah.”

“Gardner?”

“Yeah.”

Jack can’t help his eyebrows raising in surprise. He hadn’t realized they’d kept in touch.

“She’s been working behind the scenes with the Rothman Foundation and the Near Eastern Studies Department of Johns Hopkins to secure funding for an excavation that will complement the ongoing work in the Precinct of the Goddess Mut at Luxor.”

“Luxor,” Jack says slowly.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t realize you and Sarah were still in touch.” He tries hard not sound the like the (hopefully soon to be) jealous husband.

“Of course I’ve kept in touch. Why wouldn’t I?”

There are a thousand answers to that, but Jack can’t think of a single one that wouldn’t make him sound like a jealous husband or an unfeeling ass. So he shrugs and mouths, “Why wouldn’t you?”

Daniel throws him an irritated look. “Sarah’s team will explore the temple gateway and an area around the sacred lake, searching for more information about the daily lives of the people who lived there.”

Jack sits back on the sofa. “Sounds like basic stuff.” Very basic for someone who’s walked on alien worlds and discovered alien writings and civilizations.

Daniel sits down beside him, eyes bright with enthusiasm.  “It is. That’s why I want to do it. Real, honest to god, digging in the dirt archaeology. Sarah wants me to help lead the teams of students who will be going out there, too. Instructing. Teaching.” He’s speaking quickly, the way he does when he’s excited about something. He wants this so much Jack can almost taste it.

Daniel edges closer to Jack and lays a hand on his knee, rubbing absently, fondly. “It’s a world away from the liaison job, I know, and in the great scheme of things it’s probably nowhere near as important, but,” he sighs, dips his head, then raises it again and fixes Jack with an intent gaze, “I’m tired of the great scheme of things, Jack. I want to be selfish for once.”

Jack reads the truth of it in eyes that have never been able to hide anything from him. Daniel needs this and he needs Daniel. They’ve both denied themselves too much for too long in the name of the great scheme of things. Let others take things forward. Let poster boy Mitchell be the public face of the program. Let Carter tell its story and Davis grease the wheels – he’s a good diplomat in his own right. Daniel’s taught him all he knows these past few years.

“I’ve always thought Egypt would be a great honeymoon destination,” Jack says, finishing with a smile.

The smile he gets in return from Daniel is dazzling. Jack leans in and runs fingertips over the lines that the years have graven in Daniel’s beautiful face, half remembering a time when that kind of tender, exploring touch was a fantasy he'd been bleakly certain would never be.

“Ask me again,” Daniel whispers, taking Jack’s hand and kissing his fingertips.

Jack takes a deep breath and asks the question ... for the last time.

 

ends


End file.
